


Seven months and the in-between

by OncexAndxFuturexKing



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Accident, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Yuuri Katsuki, I'm Sorry, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Out of Body Experiences, VictUuri, Yuuri and Viktor are married, yuuri gets into an accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OncexAndxFuturexKing/pseuds/OncexAndxFuturexKing
Summary: Human life is fragile, a thread woven thinly around a soul that can shatter at the smallest of movements. One glance in the wrong direction, one second too many- and all you can do is watch as it slips through life’s grasp into the land where neither life nor death exist.Some may call it the in-between, but to him- to him whose life was taken that one April morning, it was hell itself.Or: Yuuri gets into an accident and finds himself in a state even worse than death
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 4
Kudos: 119





	Seven months and the in-between

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, I did it again- 
> 
> Feel free to point out any errors as well as constructive criticism! 
> 
> This is something I've been somewhat excited to write, as at first, I planned on making this a prequel to my very first fanfiction "Goodbye, my Love"
> 
> Didn't work out, so I thought I'd write something else.

_Human life is fragile, a thread woven thinly around a soul that can shatter at the smallest of movements. One glance in the wrong direction, one second too many- and all you can do is watch as it slips through life’s grasp into the land where neither life nor death exist._

_Some may call it the in-between, but to him- to him whose life was taken that one April morning, it was hell itself._

The first thing he felt was his cheek against damp, cold concrete. For a moment, he just breathed, inandoutandinandout- but it felt so different. A process so natural has suddenly become a sensation he had never felt before. When he dared to open his eyes, he was met with a blur of colours, red and blue and silver- _silver._ For a reason he wasn’t quite able to put his finger on, he loved that colour. His eyes drifted downward, where they fell upon his arm, stretched out in an unnatural angle.

As it dawned on him, his head shot up in an instant. He looked around frantically, eyes darting in every possible direction until they finally landed on the person he loved most in the world.

_His Vitya._

His Vitya, who was kneeling so far- too far- away, whose shoulders were shaking and whose head was turned downward.

Nothing, neither the crowd that had gathered around them, nor the bright lights of the cars that had stopped could have stopped him from dashing forward, running as fast as he could to be with his love a second sooner.

“Vitya!” he called, desperate to see those beautiful cerulean eyes settle on him. Desperate for the shaking to stop. Desperate for him to know that he was okay, that he was there-

-but they never did.

When he finally reached him, he felt his heart stop beating.

If it even had before.

Because there, cradled in his husband’s arms was himself. Pale, bloody and unmoving. A woman rested her hand on Viktor’s shoulder, mobile gripped tightly in the other as she spoke to whoever was on the other line.

He could see her mouth moving, but he couldn’t hear.

When he could, it was a blur of voices. Strangled sobs from the woman who had hit him, silent whispers from the crowd that became louder and louder, unbearable to listen to- but the only thing he could focus on were his husband’s broken pleas, begging him to wake up. He watched as Viktor brought his hand up to rest on his cheek, wiping away tears that had landed there, leaving a thin trail of blood behind.

“Yuuri,” he whispered, moving his hand further up to comb through his hair. He pressed a light kiss to his forehead, then another- and another- as if he was merely trying to wake him from his sleep, like he had done every morning for the past two years.

And it hurt, God did it hurt.

“Wake up,” he mumbled against his hair, voice raw and broken and tinged with so much misery and unbridled sadness. “Please, Solnyshko.”

He vaguely registered sirens blurring in the distance, but all he could focus on was Viktor, _Oh God, Viktor._

The minutes seemed to pass in slow-motion, and Yuuri loathed every second of it. In all the years he’d barely ever seen his husband cry. Last time, if he remembered correctly, had been the day of Makkachin’s passing. Even then, he had tried to hold himself together, to keep his composure until he broke down in their shared bedroom, clinging to Yuuri as if his life depended on it.

And maybe it had, Yuuri silently noted. Seeing Viktor now, crying and sobbing against his too still body, all he could think about was how he broke his promise to the one he loved most.

“ _Please, stay by my side and never leave,” Viktor whispered in his ear as they sat together by the chimney, Makkachin snoring lightly beside them, huddled closely in a blanket that was way too small for two grown men. The quiet melody of a Russian love song was playing softly in the background, and even though Yuuri couldn’t make out the words, he knew exactly what it was about._

_Unconditional love._

_He closed his eyes, taking in his husband’s familiar scent as he buried his face in his shoulder._

“ _I could never leave you.”_

Yuuri was pulled back from his reverie as paramedics shot through him. They knelt down next to Victor, their mouths moving on autopilot as they tried to pry Viktor off his counterpart.

And Yuuri could do nothing but watch he witnessed Viktor struggling against the person holding him back, repeating Yuuri’s name over and over again.

Another paramedic arrived with a stretcher, and when Viktor climbed in the ambulance after them-

everything went black.

_I hear a voice weeping in the distance  
Have you maybe been abandoned as well? _

When he woke up, Yuuri found himself in the middle of their bedroom. Light streamed through the curtains, painting the room in soft shades of oranges of the setting sun. A feeling of nostalgia overwhelmed Yuuri as he tried to shut out the dark thoughts trying to claim his mind again. And even while everything in him told him to panic, told him to investigate and find out just what this was- he couldn’t find it in him to let anxiety take over.

  
Not now. ~~Not yet.~~

It took a long time, but eventually, he convinced himself to get up. To face whatever it was fate had bestowed him with. He looked around, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think that everything had been nothing but a bad dream, a _nightmare._ But all it took was one look in the mirror to make the remainder of hope in him disappear in thin air.

Because in the mirror, he found emptiness staring back at him.

He didn’t know why he didn’t break down crying right then and there, cursing fate, or maybe death itself. Or just the driver who had hit him. He wanted to, he wanted to break down so badly, to let all his emotions out,

and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He touched his cheek gently, tracing along a cut. Closing his eyes, a new thought entered his mind.

_Is Viktor here?_

Turning around to face the door, Yuuri wondered if he would be able to open it. He remembered the ghost stories he and Mari read together when they were younger, the ones in which ghosts were see-through, and very much able to walk through walls and doors.

It turned out he was, indeed, able to go straight through it. It was a funny feeling, really, but in so many ways it felt wrong.

~~_I truly am dead, aren’t I?_ ~~

He walked through their hallway slowly, turning his head sideways whenever he passed one of the many pictures of them that darned the walls. The day Yuuri won the Grand Prix Final, Viktor, Yurio and him standing on the podium together, the day Viktor proposed to him, the day they bought what they had hoped to be their forever home, the day of their wedding…

They looked so happy in each and every single one of them. And Yuuri could recall every single moment of joy and happiness in a heartbeat. The pride he felt when he watched his husband claim his world-record again at his very last performance before he retired from the ice. He remembered every morning he woke up next to the love of his life, just asking how someone like him had managed to find someone as beautiful and perfect as Viktor.

But most importantly, he remembered how he loved him, unconditionally, irrevocably, in every single moment.

When he entered the living room, he began to wonder. _How long has it been?_

Because everything looked exactly how it had the day _it_ happened. Two mugs were left standing on the table, blankets scattered all over the couch from when they had to battle themselves to finally get up from where they fell asleep the day prior to, finally, go grocery shopping.

Panic overwhelmed him. He dashed forward, desperate to find out what day it was. He just had to know, because there was no way this was happening- _let it be just a dream,_ please, please, _please-_

Suddenly, he spotted Viktor’s phone laying on the counter, charger still in. When he tried to touch it, his hand went straight through it. “No, no, no, come on-” he pleaded, trying again and again even though he already knew it was pointless.

Slouching down against the kitchen counter, he buried his face in his hands and just cried for the first time. The sobs came in huge waves, crashing down on him until all he felt was the icy cold of fear and panic. He felt like screaming, but his mouth refused to let any words exit his mouth.

It was a knock on the door that pulled him out of his misery. “Hello?” he heard the familiar voice of their neighbour call. “Is anyone there?”

Yuuri ran to the door in a rush, reaching his hand out to take hold of the handle-

and fell straight through it, landing at the old Lady Carol’s feet. And for a moment, he held his breath, terrified at what was going to happen. But her expression remained the same, a small wrinkle on her forehead as she knocked on the door again. “They must have gone somewhere,” She mumbled, slowly retreating from the door with a sigh.

He watched her leave, and continued staring in the same direction even long after she disappeared out of view.

“I’m outside,” he whispered. “I can go outside.”

On shaking knees, he got up and ever so slowly climbed down the small set of stairs on their front porch.

He didn’t know how far he could go, if there was a boundary he couldn’t pass, but what he feared most was not knowing if he wanted to find out. He was torn between going back into the safety of their home, hiding, praying that everything was but a nightmare, or going out, trying to find answers.

There were a thousand questions running through his mind, but most importantly-

_Where is Viktor?_

If their neighbour had noticed their absence, it must have been days, if not even weeks since it happened. After all, it wasn’t a rare occurrence for them to be away.

He needed to see him, he needed to know he was safe, he needed to hear his voice-

Yuuri took off into a run, sprinting down the street to the next bus station.

The first place he looked was the hospital. There were three people in one of the ICU waiting rooms, cowered together with their hands intertwined. He stared at them for a while, subconsciously, he imagined Viktor sitting there.

A few hours later, Yuuri left through the main entrance, not a single piece of information that could help him figure out the state he was in.

It was dark outside, people walked past him, through him, around him in a rush. Not knowing what else to do, he continued down the street.

In that moment, he wished they had never moved away from Russia in the first place. Because if they hadn’t, he’d know where to find Viktor in a heartbeat.

He took the last bus home.

When he stood in front of their home again, a small piece of his mind hoped to find  Viktor home. 

He wasn’t.

Yuuri went straight to their bedroom, laid down on Viktor’s side of the bed and closed his eyes.

“Hey Vik, this is Chris. I’ve heard of what happened. I know I won’t be able to make it better, so I’m not going to try, but, you know you can come here any time you want. I’m here for you.”

The world shifted back into focus as a silent, muffled voice reached Yuuri’s ears. His head shot up immediately, trying to make out any words. But whoever it was that had been speaking apparently decided to stop at that exact moment, causing everything to fall silent again.

Yuuri sighed softly, rubbing his eyes as he looked around the bedroom. It was dark by now, and he was up and about to just lie down and go back to whatever state he’d been in before. Just as he turned around to lie back down, the phone rang again.

Somehow, he managed to convince himself to get up, dragging his legs to the living room. Viktor’s phone was still ringing, and one look at the screen told him that it was Lilia calling. He stared at the screen for a moment until the ringing stopped. Not long after, Lilia’s grumpy voice was ringing through the room.

  
Russian.

She was talking in Russian.

In that moment, Yuuri couldn’t be more grateful for the countless evenings Viktor had spent trying to teach him how to speak his native language.

“Vitya, you silly boy. Yura called me earlier, telling me you’d come to stay with him. For whatever reason you refuse to pick up your phone, call me once you’ve got over it.”

So Viktor is staying with Yurio.

He’s at Yurio’s.

_Viktor is in Moscow._

Yuuri didn’t even think before sprinting out the door, just barely remembering not to fall through it again. He managed to jump on the bus just in time before the doors closed, making himself as small as possible as he cowered in a corner. An elderly lady with a small dog sitting on her lap was sitting across from him. And he could swear the dog’s eyes were on him the entire ride.

When he moved to get off the bus, the dog barked at him. Or at least, he thinks the dog barked at him.

“What’s the matter, Sir Bentley?” The lady asked, scratching the small pup behind the ears. He visibly relaxed at the gesture, settling back down to make himself comfortable again.

When Yuuri turned around, he met the dog’s gaze one last time before the doors closed. And so he was left standing at the station, people swarming around him without even knowing he was there. And it was a funny feeling, one that he’d probably not get used to for a very long time. Being there while simultaneously not being there wasn’t exactly something he wanted to get accustomed to. And again he could feel the small part of him that was still in denial that any of this was actually happening. That part of his mind that didn’t want to admit what the rest of him already knew to be true.

He followed the bright lights of the station. They’d come here a lot, taking trains to all kinds of new places on their days off. Sometimes, they’d come simply to wander the various shops or eat at one of the restaurants. But they’d never taken a train to the airport before. So Yuuri was faced with a whole new task: finding out which train he’d have to take to get to the airport as soon as possible. And from there, he’d have to find a plane bringing him to Moscow.

His eyes scammed over the train information, “Airport, airport, come on…,” he whispered. “Aha!” his eyes lit up when he found what he was looking for. Yet his expression immediately darkened when he spotted the departure time. “No, no, no, no!” He yelled, running faster than he ever had in his life, trying to avoid as many people as possible.

Dashing up stairs, running through hallways and around countless corners until the train he had to take finally came within eyesight. He commanded his legs to go even faster as he heard the speakers announce the train’s departure. He jumped inside just as the doors closed behind him with a soft thud.

The train was quiet, considering it was fairly late already. He chose a wagon with no one else inside, sitting down as he willed his racing heart to beat slower.

It was weird, how he still felt human even though he probably wasn’t. At least not any more. He looked out the window, watching the city he called his home become smaller by each passing second.

As time went on, Yuuri watched as people got on and off the train in a haze. He could solely guess what their destination was; A loving family, friends, a partner or something entirely different waiting for them. And his thoughts wandered back to all the they spent waiting for each other to come back home A single tear escaped his eyes, sliding downward and downward until it vanished from existence forever. Bringing his knees up to his face to shield his vulnerable state from the few passenger that weren’t even able to see him, he silently cried, suppressing sobs that threatened to turn into loud, violent cries.

In the end, knowing he was dead wasn’t what hurt most. It was knowing that the people around didn’t even know he was there. That maybe, they didn’t even know he’d existed in the first place.

And maybe-

An announcement on the next and final station brought him out of his thoughts.

As soon as the announcement ended, he brought his hand up to his face to wipe his remaining tears away before he stood up. He hurried to the exit, wanting to prevent going through other passengers.

Departing the train felt like a whole new beginning, bringing him one step closer to seeing his love again. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the thoughts kept on whispering.

_He won’t even know you’re there._

The final ride on the bus bringing him to the airport passed in what felt like hours. A lamp was flickering above him, casting the bus in an eerie, sinister atmosphere. Yuuri didn’t even know what time it was, the only hint he got were the other passengers’ weary expressions. _It must be quite late already,_ he thought. _Or early._

The airport came into sight like a beacon in the darkness. He was the first to depart the bus, hurrying past gathering crowds to find a plane to Moscow.

What immediately caught his focus was a direct flight to Domodedovo airport.

And Yuuri ran.

Because there was nothing he wouldn’t do to see his Vitya a second sooner.

Come now, I'll quickly finish this glass of wine  
I’ll start to get ready  
Be quiet now

The plane had landed with a 3-hour-delay because of a storm in the Moscow area, and Yuuri had been on and about to jump off the plane and swim to Russia himself.

His nerves had taken over his body entirely. He’d tried closing his eyes, watching the weird, Russian movie playing on the TV and even walking back and forth the aisle. Nothing had been able to offer him the distraction he wanted more than anything- just to make that nerve-wrecking feeling in his stomach stop.

When the plane had finally landed, nothing could have stopped him from dashing forward. Viktor and him had visited Yurio often enough for him to know exactly where to go. The younger skater didn’t live far from the airport, as he had to go there on a regular basis, and therefore spared Yuuri the torment of having to go on yet another bus. The apartment building came into sight, and Yuuri was sure that his heart was about to explode.

Knowing that there were only two sets of stairs and a single door between him and Viktor made his already burning legs go even faster.

He’d imagined this moment countless times on his way here, but actually standing in front of the door felt so very different that he’d imagined it would. He slowly reached his hand out, further and further until it disappeared behind it. And ever so slowly, the rest of his body followed suit.

Yurio’s apartment looked no different than it did all the other times Viktor and him came here.

How Yuuri wished there had been something- anything- that could have prepared him for the gruesome sight that would, no doubt, haunt him for the rest of his days.

Walking through the hallway, Yuuri forced himself onward to face the inevitable. His knees were shaking violently with every step, and suddenly, Yuuri wished he didn’t have to do this. All kinds of scenarios were racing through his head. What if they weren’t even there?

He stopped when he reached the door to the living room. Would Viktor be there? Would he finally see him again? If so, would he even like the sight? Yuuri took a deep, deep breath, closed his eyes and stepped through. He didn’t dare open his eyes for several moments, he could only stand there and try to calm his nerves down. _You can do this, come on, just do it._

He could do it, he could do it, he could do it-

“You should eat,” an all too familiar voice spoke. But there was something in it that Yuuri had never had before. It was gentle, soothing and soft. But the voice was met with silence. And Yuuri knew who he was talking to without opening his eyes to confirm his feelings. “Viktor,” Yuri whispered again, and this time it felt closer. Yuuri chose that exact moment to open his eyes, and flinched backward when he found that Yuri was standing but mere inches away from him.

His eyes slowly drifted away from Yuri’s slouched form to a figure on the ground.

_Vitya_

_Vitya!_

_I’m here!_

He screamed at the top of his lungs, desperately wishing for that mop of the most beautiful shade of platinum silver he’d ever seen. He’d carded his hands through it countless times, worshipping the soft, silken locks.

But Viktor’s head stayed down, resting on his knees. He couldn’t see his face, and suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to any more.

“I’m going to bed,” Viktor spoke, his voice devoid of the warmth it used to hold. He stood up on shaking legs, and for the first time since Yuuri arrived he could see how thin Vitya had become. His usually bright and beautiful eyes were sunken in, empty and so, so cold. Slowly, he moved from his spot in the threshold. He couldn’t bare the thought of Viktor walking through him like the collection of air he was.

Viktor grazed him, softly, almost unnoticeably, but he did.

With that, a loud, violent sob broke free.

Yuuri didn’t know how many days had passed. He spent the entirety of them cowering in a dark corner in Yurio’s living room. He’d only seen small glances of Viktor ever since he got here. And with each passing moment he saw him, his soul shattered anew. It was like dying all over again, violent and cruel and so incredibly painful. Viktor was breaking apart and Yuuri could do nothing but watch and pray as the love of his life suffered through the days.

Would this ever end? Would he have to endure seeing all his loved ones suffer and, eventually, die?

In the back of his mind, he could only hope for an answer that wasn’t ‘yes’.

And so the world went on without him. Some days Yuuri spent just watching Viktor. Watching him sleep, watching him cope, watching him fall apart. And he _loathed_ every second of it. On some days, Viktor would sit on the balcony for hours, watching the sun rise in the morning and set again in the evening. On other days, he would stare at the too bright screen of his phone, showing an old picture of them, until the battery died down. Yurio’s apartment bore too many too happy memories of their too short time together. And Yuuri wished he could turn back time, back to how they used to be.

And every night, Yuuri counted the stars along with one happy memory from the past, It was the 41th night, and slowly but surely, Yuuri thought, Viktor started to be again. It started with the time he got up in the morning, the number of tiny smiled he shared at Yurio’s attempts to cheer him up, the nights he didn’t cry himself to sleep.

Yuuri glanced back at Viktor’s sleeping face one last time before returning to the living room. He could hear bursts of laughter from the streets right outside Yuri’s apartment, and suddenly, he wanted nothing more but for him and Viktor to be a part of the living again. And with one single thought, he turned around and disappeared behind the door. When the cold night air surrounded him, it felt like it breathed a little bit of life back in him.

He strolled down the street, past coffee shops, bakeries and jewellery stores. Memories of Viktor and him walking down the very same path entered his mind, and it felt so easy to picture his husband next to him, their hands intertwined while they shared their stories.

_And you’ll never be able to feel his hand in yours again,_ another, much darker thought reminded him. 

Yuuri didn’t realize he’d left the side walk until a responding ambulance shot through him. He turned around, eyes wide as he watched it disappear around a corner.

He’d subconsciously headed to a coffee shop Yurio, Viktor and him had visited a lot in the past. It was small, quiet and cosy. Never crowded or noisy, just exactly what they needed.

And exactly what he needed now. He walked through the door, sat down at a table right in front of a window and imagined what it would be like if his accident had never happened. It was easy to lose track of reality when he wasn’t a part of it any more. At least not officially. Another ambulance, or maybe even the same as earlier shot down the street just as he turned his head to look out. This part of town was never really busy, except for a few locals and business people looking for a place to calm down again.

A waitress passed the table, her eyes looking straight through him.

It was only then that he realized he’d never really thought about what was going to happen now that he was gone.

In the back of his mind, he knew that he’d always return to Viktor. No matter what destiny had in store for the man he would always, even in death, unconditionally love.

Which was exactly why, in that moment, he decided to return to Yurio’s apartment. Even if Viktor wouldn’t know, he needed to know he’s safe.

He enjoyed the walk back. After weeks of spending the days in the dark, too quiet apartment, fresh air was exactly what he needed. The streets were almost empty, apart from a few people strolling past him every once in a while.

When he reached the door to Yuri’s apartment, a weird sense of uncertainty overwhelmed him.

Why would they leave the door open?

He hesitated for a moment before entering. The number of bad thoughts multiplied by each second as he looked through the rooms without a trace of either Viktor or Yuri anywhere. When he reached the bathroom, his world started to spin as everything around him slowly faded into darkness.

When he woke up next, he found himself surrounded by white walls and the sickening smell of disinfectant. Something- or rather, someone- stirred next to him. With shaking arms, he pulled his body up into a sitting position to get a better look. His breath stocked when he realized it was Yurio, cowered on an uncomfortable looking hospital chair.

If Yurio was here-

Please, no, no, no-

Don’t let it be true. Please.

In that moment, a nurse entered the waiting room. “ _Is there someone here for Viktor Nikiforov?”_ Momentarily, Yuri’s head shot up as he followed the nurse into the doctor’s office. Yuuri trailed behind them, terrified of what he was about to find out.

The message that followed was but a blur of words.

“...sorry _...didn’t make it….too severe...”_

**No!**

Yuuri screamed as he collapsed onto his knees, sobbing violent tears. This couldn’t be happening, it’s a nightmare, it’s not real-

“Don’t you dare pretend you’re sorry while you’re not,” Yuri whispered, his voice breaking at the edges. And Yuuri looked at him, truly looked at him, and for the first time, he saw the broken look on his face. A look he had never seen before.

A look he never wanted to see again.

The doctor stared back at him blankly. He used the tip of his finger to re-arrange his glasses before standing up, offering a cold nod in Yuri’s direction and leaving the room. The nurse stood in the corner of the room, looking uncomfortable more than anything. And for a few moments, Yuri did nothing. He only stared down at his lap.

The first tear fell, followed by another. And another. And another. Slowly, he heaved his shaking body up and sprinted out of the room. Yuuri followed, racing after the younger boy in desperation.

Some nurses turned their heads around to look after them, or rather, after Yuri, while some did in annoyance, some did with a concerned expression on their faces.

But Yuuri didn’t have time to think about that. For now, he had Yuri to watch out for.

Yuri had sprinted the whole way back to his apartment that day, reaching for the door in between violent, breathless coughs. And Yuuri had followed, like he always would.

He’d disappeared in his room as soon as the door opened, shutting it forcefully. And Yuuri didn’t want to intrude on Yuri’s personal space. Because somehow, it still felt like he was a guest more than an unwanted visitor. A few hours passed, and when Yuri next left his room, he’d headed straight for the living room.

He’d sat down in front of the shrine, retrieving some of the albums to look at their happiest moments together. Yuuri immediately moved to sit down next to him. A bright smile spread out on his face as soon as the first picture came within sight. It was a picture of the three of them, side by side in front of his parents’ onsen, taken just a few days after Viktor and Yurio had come to Japan.

The second was a picture of Viktor happily digging into a bowl of Katsudon. Yuuri remembered the exact moment he’d taken it, watching the person who would later on become his favourite thing in the world. No, that wasn’t quite right.

Watching the person who would later on become his whole world.

And so the album stretched on with memories of their years together.

As coach and student, as friends, as lovers.

Yuuri’s first gold medal at the Grand Prix Final,

Viktor’s proposal on National Television,

their wedding night,

their honeymoon,

their vacations,

the day they bought what they’d hoped to be their forever home.

But it wasn’t all flowers and rainbows.

The photos showed their happiest times, but Yuuri knew the story of each and every single one of them. Of how the photo of them cuddled against each other had been taken right after Yakov’s funeral. Or the photo of them in Hasetsu, walking through the park as the bright Sakura leaves fell on the anniversary of Makkachin’s death.

And without even realizing it, he’d reached the last page. A tear landed on top it, and he subconsciously tried to wipe it away, and he shouldn’t have been surprised that it went straight through.

What he hadn’t noticed was the shocked expression on Yuri’s face as his eyes focused on the damp spot.

The days that followed were torture. Countless calls of friends, fans and journalists desperetly trying to get the very first interview.

It took weeks, if not even months, for the rumours and calls and questions to subside.

That didn’t make the situation any better. Viktor’s funeral was held in Hasetsu on a cold, rainy day in December. A darker, slower version of Stammi Vicino had been played. And Yuuri hated every second of it. He’d hated the speeches, Chris’ heartbroken sobs as he clang to Phichit, the stoic expression of Otabek Altin whom he’d managed to warm up to in the final years of his life.

But above all, he’d hated the thought of Viktor suffering through the time that followed his death. He’d hated the pictures of his slouched form in front of the shrine that played in the back of his mind. He’d hated knowing it was over.

It was a particularly rough day, and Yuuri hadn’t been able to catch even a glimpse of Yuri. The latter had been staying in Hasetsu ever since the funeral and barely ever left his room. Seeing his family again after months was hard and incredibly painful. His mother hadn’t smiled, neither had Mari or his father as they welcomed Yuri ‘home’. One of the guests, seemingly unaware of the situation, had tried to lighten the mood.

No one had attempted it again after that.

It was barely 6 AM when Yuuri heard voices from down the corridor. And when he checked to look, it was to find Yuri hastily putting on a scarf and jacket. Yuuri hurried after him in a rush, knowing where he was going even as he refused to accept it.

When they reached the graveyard, Yuri pulled a small box out of his pocket as he headed to where he knew Viktor’s and Yuuri’s grave was. He kneeled down in front of it, rearranging the flowers, candles and presents of friends, fans and family that were placed on top of it. He opened the box,

and laid their engagement rings on top of the stone.

“Hello, old man… Katsudon,” Yuri started, angrily wiping at his eyes.

“You know I have every right to never talk to either of you ever again, right?

You shouldn’t have died,

Not without saying Goodbye first.

I’m not saying I miss you or anything, because I don’t,

I’m happy I don’t have to put up with your lovey dovey any more.”

“Happier… than I’ve ever… been,” Yuri’s sobs rang in-between each word, and by the time he’d finished, tears were running down his face full force.

“I should hate you! But I can’t, I fucking can’t because all I can think about is how you don’t deserve this, how Katsudon didn’t deserve this!”

“...How I didn’t deserve this.”

“ _I’m sorry,”_

Was the last thing Yuuri registered before the world faded into a blur of white and silver.

“Yuuri?”

...

“Yuuri?”

…

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri slowly came back to awareness as his eyes tried to adjust to the bright light. He was cradled in someone’s arms, he was shaking and yet he’s never felt so warm and safe before. When he looked up, he found the most beautiful shade of cerulean blue staring back at him.

  
But something wasn’t quite right. Such beautiful eyes should never look so _terrified._

Suddenly, he was pressed even closer to the body holding him. “I was so scared,” the voice whispered. And Yuuri knew that voice. He _loved_ that voice.

“Viktor?” He mumbled. And when his eyes found Viktor’s again, his expression had morphed into one of complete and utter love and adoration. “I love you, so, so much,”

“It’s not like he died or anything, geezer,” Came another voice from his left. Yurio was looking down on both of them, and Yuuri has known him long enough to know exactly that deep down, Yuri was relieved more than anything.

“I really am sorry!” Came a new voice. “I didn’t see you.”

Viktor just glared at the woman. “You could have fucking killed him!” Yuri hissed. A crowd had gathered around them, and Yuuri suddenly remembered how they’d walked through the park together when suddenly, everything turned black.

“It’s okay,” Yuuri whispered, “It’s okay, everything’s fine, I’m fine!” Viktor helped him up, keeping a hand at the small of his back just to make sure. He looked down at himself. Apart from a few scratches, he was fine.

He was fine!

He was _alive!_

Before he could do anything else, Viktor had already engulfed him in a bone-breaking hug. 

Somewhere in the crowd, someone retrieved their phone from their pocket to take a photo. 

And later, much later, they would look at it and remember the relief and happiness they’d felt. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a pain to write. 
> 
> I got the idea in school a few months ago and started writing it. I didn't think I'd finish it at all, but I did. Somehow. 
> 
> Nevertheless, I hope you liked it :) 
> 
> P.S. It wasn't suppossed to have a happy ending.


End file.
